Pieces
by Rosalyn Angel
Summary: A collection of unrelated Gippalai drabbles. Randomly updated. Gippal and Baralai goodness. Drabble six: Awkward goodbyes.
1. sometimes gippal forgets

Author's Notes: Because 1.) Random, unrelated Gippalai drabbles pop into my head, 2.) There's not enough Gippalai, and 3.) I'm able to upload things. Also, these will all have crappy titles, since they're drabbles.

This particular one was inspired when fighting Baralai in the game, and noticing that he was quite ambitious when yelling at me to "Suffer!"

"**Sometimes Gippal forgets..."**

By: Rosalyn Angel

Sometimes Gippal forgets how vicious Baralai can be.

When the four of them were all together, Baralai smiled and smoothly told jokes, and Gippal studied his serene face. There was no wrinkle in the brow or on the bridge of his nose. His teeth were white and his grin was wide; he was the perfect picture of calmness and contentment.

Sometimes Gippal forgets how dangerous Baralai can be.

Baralai is small--his body is concealed under layer after layer of heavy robes, hiding the petite frame. Gippal knows his frame, from every angle of bone to every plane of skin. He's observed it at night, tracing a finger down a finely muscled arm or over a flat stomach. He wonders, as Baralai rests unknowing, how so much power can be compacted into so small a thing.

Sometimes Gippal forgets how frightening Baralai can be.

Gippal remembers faintly when Baralai was fighting a fiend; his bladed staff was glinting brightly as it sliced through the monster's torso. Thin hands were white-knuckled, clutched so tightly that veins revealed themselves, and Baralai's face was a deep grimace, as he muttered things Gippal had to strain to hear.

_"Suffer."_

Gippal lies next to Baralai at night. His fingers trace the young Praetor's face, smoothing out imaginary lines chiseled in from battle, and he misses the days when all four of them were together and he didn't need to forget anything.

**fin**


	2. morning

Author's Notes: Because 1.) Random, unrelated Gippalai drabbles pop into my head, 2.) There's not enough Gippalai, and 3.) I'm able to upload things. Also, these will all have crappy titles, because they're drabbles.

Because I hate mornings, but they could be tolerable under certain circumstances.

"**Morning"**

by: Rosalyn Angel

The sunlight dapples in through the slits of the window shades. It lights up bars across the bed and two forms lying in it, one on top of the other. Underneath, a man with a boy's face is sleeping peacefully, but the man on top, younger but with an older face, is wide awake, peering out with only one eye at the dawn seeping through.

Gippal and Baralai lie chest-to-chest, with Gippal's arms encircling the Praetor's silver-haired head and face neatly tucked into Baralai's shoulder. The one green eye squints, daring the sunlight to stretch out even more, until it spreads across his face. Gippal winces, and his eye closes. He never wins.

"Mm..." Baralai mutters underneath him, head turning slightly to bump his chin into Gippal's forehead. "Ugh... Gippal.."

"No," he mutters back, "dun' wanna move."

"You're heavy..."

"You're soft."

He feels Baralai's arms slip out from the blanket to lie on his back. "Then you're squishy..."

"Hey, hey," Gippal warns, lifting his head slightly to glare down at the amused, bronze-colored face. "No making fun so early."

"It was a… compliment," Baralai stutters, smacking his lips to get rid of the horrible morning taste.

Gippal kisses him anyway. "If I'm squishy, then you're plush."

"Not fair."

Gippal grins cheekily and meshes his longer nose against Baralai's little round one. "Is, too."

"Not this early..."

Gippal is glad that neither of them are morning people.

(This is the type of thing I want to wake up to.)

**fin**


	3. hard work

Author's Notes: Because 1.) Random, unrelated Gippalai drabbles pop into my head, 2.) There's not enough Gippalai, and 3.) I'm able to upload things. Also, these will all have crappy titles, because they're drabbles.

Because I'm currently at my "job", and that got me to thinking…

"**hard work"**

By: Rosalyn Angel

Gippal stares at the pen as it scratches across the paper. It makes squiggly lines and loop-de-loops in such a precise, graceful manner that the hand holding it could only belong to the Praetor of New Yevon.

"Hey, 'Lai," Gippal says, sitting in the chair before the large desk, his feet propped up unceremoniously. "When are you gonna be done with all that?"

Baralai glances up briefly to frown at the dirty boots near his face. "Please put your feet down, Gippal. These are important documents."

Gippal sighs and swings his legs to hang over the chair's side. He lazily bends back, sitting sideways, with a hand over his forehead. There's an audible _crack_ from his bones. "Sorry. But, seriously, are you almost done?"

"In a minute."

"You were almost done 'in a minute' about an hour ago."

The pen stops scratching. Baralai glances up again, this time tiredly. "I know. I'm sorry. I just need to get this done."

Before the pen can touch the paper again, Gippal lunches forward and shoves his hands over it. Baralai considers stabbing the pen into Gippal's pinky finger.

"Gippal, please."

"Nuh-uh," Gippal says, shaking his head. "That's enough. You work so hard all day. Can't you take a break at night?"

"I can't. I have to work hard for _you_ at night."

Gippal stares, and then throws his head back in a loud laugh. "Touché. Speaking of hard…"

"_Gippal_!"

**fin**


	4. lies

Author's Notes: Because 1.) Random, unrelated Gippalai drabbles pop into my head, 2.) There's not enough Gippalai, and 3.) I'm able to upload things. Also, these will all have crappy titles, since they're drabbles.

Because I wanted to explore a darker side to Baralai.

"**lies"**

By: Rosalyn Angel

All Baralai does now is lie.

Gippal supposes Baralai's deceit shouldn't bother him so much, because he's seen it developing for years, watching the Praetor give speeches to his people with wide sweeps of his arms. He'd be at the back of the crowd, leaning against a wall, to catch a glimpse of Baralai walking onto the podium. He'd see Baralai's smile assuring that everything was under control, and that things were running smoothly, efficiently, _slowly_. Among the polite clapping and standard bowing after the speech, Gippal would leave for Djose without looking back. He knew what Baralai would do then: he'd walk down and shake people's hands, smile and laugh at bad jokes they made, and it was all so fake that Gippal couldn't stand any more.

Baralai lies without a forked tongue.

It is not with ill intent. He really means to do good, to soften people's fears and worries, but he _knows_ what he speaks is not true, and he does it with ease. He can look at them in the eye with all sincerity, lie without a second thought, and people believe him. They need something to believe in, these poor souls clinging so hard to the past—Baralai gives them peace and ground to stand on.

Baralai lies to Gippal.

He's a good soul. He's a good person. Save for this one fault that he has mastered so beautifully. Now Gippal watches it, and he's amazed at how far it's gone. He's almost angry, maybe hurt, that Baralai can smile and say everything is all right when it's _not_.

Sometimes Baralai wakes up screaming.

He shakes and shivers late at night, and Gippal is there stroking his silver hair. It's only then when Baralai is truthful, when his soul is bared wide open in all its trembling monstrosity. He murmurs things about darkness and Shuyin, faith, Yevon, and Seymour, until he slips back into sleep like nothing happened. Gippal sits and stares at the wrinkles in Baralai's brow as he rests with nightmares.

Morning comes, and Baralai smiles softly. He lies that today will be a good day, and that he had slept well.

Gippal can't bring himself to disagree.

**fin**


	5. art

Author's Notes: Because 1.) Random, unrelated Gippalai drabbles pop into my head, 2.) There's not enough Gippalai, and 3.) I'm able to upload things. Also, these will all have crappy titles, since they're drabbles.

Also, I want to thank Yuna-flowering, ffpanda, and Sydney Clock for reviewing so far! Even if these are just drabbles, I really appreciate it.

Because I just came from my Design class.

"**art"**

Gippal's fingers are smudged with black.

Baralai is lying on the bed with the sheets rumpled over his form, his hands resting near his face and fingers loosely curled. Half of his vision is his own arm—the other is of Gippal sitting in the chair next to him with a determined frown and sketchbook in hand. The blond holds a stick of charcoal that glides across the page, rolling it in his hand to make thin and thick lines, only for them to be blended in with the rest.

Baralai is smiling as he watches Gippal draw. His sleepy eyes casually regard every aspect: the way the dim light plays across Gippal's shirtless body, illuminating his silhouette; his tongue sticking out in concentration; and how his eye continuously flickers up to Baralai before going back to his work.

"What are you drawing?" Baralai asks softly. "Why don't you come to bed?"

"Can't," Gippal responds plainly. His hand makes another sweep. "Gotta finish. Gotta capture it."

Baralai's head tilts. "Capture what?"

"You, how you are right now. Isn't that obvious? Put your head back, will you?"

Baralai obeys, blinking widely. He didn't think _he'd_ be the subject. Gippal chuckles and remarks on how Baralai should be a little more conceited.

Several minutes pass. Baralai lies there, almost afraid to move; Gippal asks him to relax like he was before, saying he could see the muscles tensing. Baralai tries, but the flicker of Gippal's eye and Gippal's smirk and the sound of charcoal sliding across paper makes Baralai nervous and needy at the same time.

"It's really rough, but I got it," Gippal finally says, setting the charcoal stick aside. "Here, look."

Baralai sits up and the blanket slides down to his stomach. Gippal turns the book around; a dark, beautifully blended interpretation of the Praetor is there. The black and grey of the eyes stand out the most, staring at half-mast, _wanting_.

"Oh," is all Baralai can say. "Wow."

Gippal grins and sets the book aside. He crawls onto the bed and runs a black-smudged finger down Baralai's cheek, leaving a streak. "You should pose more often. Like a model."

Baralai frowns, his stupor disappearing, and rubs at his face. The black smears more. "What would I get for it?"

Gippal leans over him. "This."

Later, Baralai doesn't complain when he has to shower and remove the black fingerprints on his body.

**fin**


	6. enough time

Author's Notes: Because 1.) Random, unrelated Gippalai drabbles pop into my head, 2.) There's not enough Gippalai, and 3.) I'm able to upload things. Also, these will all have crappy titles, since they're drabbles.

Because I read too much fluff. Although I love fluff dearly, I wrote a smack of sad reality.

"**enough time"**

by: Rosalyn Angel

It's awkward.

Neither is really sure of what to say, and they can't really look each other in the eye. Sure, they can stare at the imaginary specs of dust on their boots, or maybe the random person stumbling along the street, but Yevon forbid they should look each other in the eye. After all, eyes are the windows to the soul, and neither can allow the other to know what they're thinking.

That wouldn't be safe.

That'd be awkward.

They need to leave soon anyway, so there isn't enough time.

"All right," the blond starts, waving his hand dismissively. "I'll see you later, then. G'bye, 'Lai."

Baralai wonders if Gippal knows there's a spot on his boot. "Yes. I'll see you around." Maybe.

"Okay." Gippal nods and gives a small grin. It falters at the corners.

Neither moves.

"Hey, you two, it's time to go home!" a perky voice calls from behind, near the airship's whirring engine. "Celebration's over!"

Baralai freezes.

"Oh, right," Gippal says, laughing lightly. "Time to go."

He turns around and goes onboard before Baralai can say any thing more.

There's never enough time.

**fin**


End file.
